


All I Know Is

by beverytender



Category: Degrassi the Next Generation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-12
Updated: 2010-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beverytender/pseuds/beverytender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never talk about definitions. Sequel to Change Your Mind. Inspired by same friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aphrodite_mine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/gifts).



It takes him a week after that to call her, half because he’s busy with midterms and half because he’s not sure it wasn’t just a fluke.  
She laughs at him again, as he trips over the words, but she agrees to join him for dinner saturday night. He grins like an idiot the rest of the day, and more than one students tells him it’s creepy.

But he feels pretty confident, by the time he pulls up at the restaurant - her choice, in trade for being allowed to keep the after dinner activity - dancing - a secret. It’s a little cliche, and cheesy, he knows, but there’s prior knowledge there, and it was fun then. And, yeah, it’s an excuse to be close to her. What else is new.

She’s already there, actually, just speaking to the hostess when he enters, and he appreciates the opportunity to surprise her - leaning in to say hi in her ear, and settling his hand on her lower back. She only jumps a little, and glares but smiles while they’re seated, “Jerk.”

It’s only the beginning of the mocking - as soon as they order drinks she starts in on how she didn’t think he had the - ahem - to actually ask her out, and he counters with “You’re not that scary.” Which she takes as a challenge.

It feels good, the whole night does. Familiar, even if they didn’t get along for a longer time than they did.

~~~

She shows up the last day of midterms, when the students have early dismissal but he doesn't, in an outfit he recognizes from high school.

She twirls as she enters the room, shuts the door behind herself, and looks all too smug as she says, "Still fits."

"I can see that," he replies, not even trying to bite back his smirk as she rearranges things and takes a seat on his desk. He leans against the wall behind it.

"I thought I'd give you another chance at getting me out of my clothes, high school style."

He's proud of the way he doesn't blush at that, just manages an amused look as he goes to kiss her, "How very charitable of you."

"Mhm," she murmurs, whispers, "Shame you don't still have one of those dorky hats," before he reaches her lips.

He does, in his car.

She demands they go get it, and he ends up finger-fucking her in the backseat, her fingernails digging into his arms, like they’re a pair of overexcited teenagers.

~~~

He goes on vacation, over Spring Break, and the whole time all he can think about is he misses her, and nightly phone calls only help so much. She says she misses him too, in this soft voice he’s still not entirely used to hearing.

So imagine his surprise when he gets back and she - for lack of a more accurate word - dumps him. Differences, she says, and she doesn’t want to get his hopes up, or something. He doesn’t get it.

~~~

She comes - came over every Thursday evening, distracts - distracted him while he tried to grade homework, until he gave up.  
Sometimes she distracted him by singing at the top of her lungs and dancing around his tiny kitchen like she was still 16. Those nights, they’d have dinner, watch a movie, he’d get to hold her for a while. Those nights were rare.

Sometimes she would pick the lock on his door - she had a key, but she lost it all the time - and wouldn’t even give him the chance to protest, just situated herself in his lap and bite at his lip until he kissed her back. Sometimes he’d let her make it bleed.

Sometimes - but rarest of all - she’d wake up there friday mornings.

Now he tries to grade papers on thursday night and ends up spending a pitiful amount of time in the shower.

~~~

Facts cling into place when Jackson starts to perk up in class, starts talking.

Talking about his dad winning the lottery, or something, and moving back home.

That makes sense. Or, at least - Adam can respect that more. He doesn’t know the story there, they’d - actually spent remarkably little time talking about their lives, a flaw he only sees clearly now. Maybe - it’s possible it was always the plan for Jackson’s father - whatever his name is - to come back, and if Adam was a way to pass time, he supposes he can be alright with that.

He supposes he should feel flattered.

~~~

By the end of the school year Jackson’s silent again.

Adam visits his mother for a couple weeks, Drew for a couple weeks, gets back home midway through July.

~~~

August 4th she shows up at his door with a somewhat smushed ice cream cake (that actually says congratulations) and a not completely full bottle of whiskey, and she pushes her way into his apartment (honestly he doesn’t put up that much of a struggle).

She says, “Happy Birthday. Shut up.”

He does, but when she falls asleep in his bed, he takes the couch.

No hopes. He can be rebound.

~~~

She’s gone in the morning. He’s not surprised.

She leaves a note - well, a scrawled message by dry erase pen on the fridge door.

~~~

Sorry. Family, you know? Had to try.

~~~

He’s a little early to work that day. He feels a bit like an idiot, sending a text message under the desk as a teacher, as a 33 year old man, but he’d feel more like an idiot if he called.

‘I get it.’

Simple, probably pointless, but it makes him feel like the air’s officially cleared. No hard feelings, or whatever.

She replies ‘Friends?’

He replies ‘Sure.’


	2. Two

'Friends’ is not as bad as he secretly thought it would be.

Actually, ‘friends’ is not as platonic as he thought. There are still looks, and a good bit of flirting, they still go dancing. Fairly regularly, even. But he doesn’t kiss her, and she doesn’t let herself into his apartment. He doesn’t touch her randomly, for no reason, and she doesn’t keep pajamas in his closet.

She dates, occasionally, rarely the same man more than once, he sees a fellow teacher for a couple weeks.

Months pass. They only slip up once - her birthday, she says all she wants is some high quality tequila, no cake, but he gets her one anyways - his fatal flaw, he fetches two pieces and she starts to unbutton her top. He’s weak - he doesn’t have the heart to tell her to put her clothes back on.

There’s no message on the fridge that time, which he takes as a hint to stay silent. He does.

~~~

He meets her children - well, meets Jackson as ‘Adam’ instead of Mr. Torres, ‘but only outside of school,’ and meets her daughter, 6 years old, Elena - but god help you if you try and shorten it.

They actually have conversations, he tells her about his brief and futile attempt at being an accountant, and becomes the butt of even more of her jokes, and she tells him about her life since graduation, with a few more extremely gross details about pregnancy than needed.

He goes on vacation again - this time, during the school year, finally he feels ready to have that final surgery, and he’s staying with Drew for the healing period. - and they only talk once while he’s gone. She doesn’t ask why he’s going away, and he doesn’t volunteer it.

It’s comfortable, but it still feels a little wrong, he can’t help thinking they haven’t hit their balance yet, but he doesn’t say anything.

~~~

Her house gets termites. Her kids go to stay with their fathers, while it’s being tented, and she shows up at his door with a sleeping bag, of all things. He’s run low on groceries, so they end up eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the living room floor and playing games.

Go Fish becomes War, War becomes Connect Four, and around midnight Truth or Dare gets suggested.

It goes as well as could be expected. He sticks to safe questions, the most interesting being her favorite color - she can’t decide. She doesn’t - asking bizarre things, everything she’s ever wanted to know, he thinks, and eventually he tells her she can just ask whatever she wants.

It takes her twenty minutes - and it doesn’t make him feel at all reassured that she’s a bit nervous - to ask why he spends time with her. It takes him five seconds to sit forward, grab her hands, meet her eyes, and say, simply, “I like you.”

Strangely, he feels absolutely calm, and capable of seeing this moment for exactly what it is. Just one moment, one more turning point, not the end all be all of anything. Not even one page in the story, just a paragraph.

And he thinks he sees her more clearly, too.

~~~

The clarity goes away the next day - he’s never going to be able to think - at all, forget clearly - when he wakes up with her, naked, in his bed.

But he’s okay with that.

And he’s going to do his best to keep her there, this time.


End file.
